creatures of such like desire
by hoidn
Summary: One ship, ten genres.


**A/N:** so what do you do when everything you try working on fails? you start something new with ten ways to fail at the same time! i completely ignored the part of the challenge that says these are supposed to be one sentence each. the title comes from the song 'bird as prophet' by christine fellows.

* * *

**1\. Angst**

Five guns were trained on Walt as he walked toward the house; he knew there were likely more he couldn't see.

The only one that mattered was jammed against Vic's temple.

\- o -

**2\. AU (Hardboiled)**

"I ain't no damsel in distress, mister," said the blonde, sliding her skirt up to reveal the little derringer tucked into her garter.

I found myself less interested in the pistol than the creamy thigh currently warming it. My study of its contours was interrupted by the low sound of voices and the scuff of leather soles beyond the alleyway. Before I knew it, the dame had me by the lapels and was hauling me close with surprising strength for someone her size. I took in those determined hazel eyes and luscious ruby lips, thought of that temptingly smooth thigh, and tried to remember this was somebody's little girl.

Then she kissed me.

I did what any red-blooded man would've done in my shoes. I kissed her back, hard, and let Connally's goons walk right on by.

She might've been somebody's little girl, but she certainly wasn't mine.

\- o -

**3\. Crack!fic**

Vic stepped warily out of her truck. "Hey, Walt? What's with the bear?"

He looked down as if he'd somehow forgotten the massive creature sitting right next to him. "Uh, well... this is Henry."

\- o -

**4\. Crossover (Firefly)**

"You got a better chance in the shuttle, Vic."

"I'm not leaving, Walt." She nodded to the gun resting in its holster at his hip. "So you can either shoot me and drag me onto that shuttle, or you can accept that I'm done letting you do stupid shit on your own and stop gorram arguing."

He stared at her with his jaw clenched tight.

"I ain't gonna let you die here, Vic."

"Good," she said briskly. "That makes two of us."

\- o -

**5\. First Time**

"I'm not sick," Walt insisted, then immediately started coughing.

"Of course not," Vic agreed as she steered his stubborn ass toward the bedroom. It was the fourth iteration of this conversation in the last hour and she'd given up arguing.

He sat heavily on the bed, his shoulders slumped. "You don't need to stay. I'm fine."

"Uh huh," she said. His forehead felt unnaturally hot under her palm.

Walt let out a barely audible sigh and leaned into the light touch, letting her take some of his weight. The vulnerable gesture melted Vic's irritation down to nothing. He so rarely admitted to weakness, even with her. She slid her fingers through his hair, curving her palm to cup his head tenderly as it tilted to rest against her stomach. A soft hum of pleasure rolled from his throat when she gently kneaded the back of his neck.

"Lie down," she told him and pressed a kiss to the top of his head. "I'll bring you some aspirin."

\- o -

**6\. Fluff**

Walt slid his arms around Vic's waist and nuzzled into the warm space behind her ear. It was damp with sweat, salty against his lips. Behind the screen of her hair he sucked the delicate skin lightly and felt her tiny shiver.

"You're so pretty," he said softly and watched her bite her lip around the slow smile that lit up her face.

"You're cute when you're drunk."

"You're cute all the time."

"Okay," she said and she was laughing but he didn't mind. He liked her laughing. He liked the way she was looking at him and the way she was setting down her beer and putting her arms around his shoulders; he liked the way some of her fingers were cold on the back of his neck.

"I'm really glad you're here," he said. Here with him on this beautiful day and here because she'd chosen to stay: in this town, this county, this life.

She cocked her head, face flushed from the sun, her eyes like polished bronze in the dappled shade.

"Where else would I be?"

\- o -

**7\. Humor**

"I don't get how you're always so fucking warm," Vic muttered, burrowing down under the covers.

"A lifetime of good, clean living," came the dry response from behind her.

She rolled her eyes in the darkness and elbowed him in the gut.

\- o -

**8\. Hurt/Comfort**

Walt hissed when she dabbed antiseptic gel onto the cracked skin of his knuckle. For a man who'd once poured straight vodka onto a fresh stab wound, he could be a remarkable baby when it came to minor injuries.

"This wouldn't happen if you used that balm Cady bought you," Vic admonished.

"It's too greasy," he muttered. "It ends up smeared all over everything I touch."

She dropped a kiss on the tip of his finger. "I don't mind getting a little smeared."

\- o -

**9\. Smut**

"I want you to pull my hair and come in my mouth," she said as she slid down his body. The curve of her smile was all sin.

\- o -

**10\. UST**

Vic was laughing with Ferg and Cady in the sunshine, her lips stained by the half-eaten popsicle she held in one hand. Walt wanted to rip the damn thing right out of her fingers. He wanted to kiss that red right off of her mouth.

[END]

* * *

**notes:** i kind of cheated with #4 because it's a fusion rather than a crossover. oh, and i stole a line from the show.


End file.
